


All You Did Was Save My Life

by sky_reid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Fluff, Injury, M/M, Nudity, Prompt Fic, basically merlin is really tired and arthur's taking care of him, because that's what the prompt was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overusing magic exhausts Merlin to no end. Luckily, he has Arthur to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Did Was Save My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, attempting fluff, loading, loading, error 404.
> 
> Title from a song by Our Lady Peace.
> 
> Written for [this](http://tiptoe39.livejournal.com/1303389.html?thread=6232669#t6232669) prompt at the WAFFathon by jenab. Because I'm trying to get through a Merlin writer's block. So, it may not be the best thing ever.

 

_All You Did Was Save My Life_

 

“I can walk on my own,” Merlin huffs indignantly while trying to surreptitiously lean more onto Arthur.

 

“Of course you can,” Arthur replies, adjusting his grip on Merlin's waist. Merlin thinks his attempts at secretly letting Arthur carry more of his weight may not have been as unnoticeable as he thought.

 

“Of course I can,” Merlin says, slurring his words only a little bit. He stands up straight and pushes Arthur away, determined to walk up the last flight of stairs on his own. He manages three steps before he proceeds to promptly stumble into a wall.

 

Arthur snorts. “Of course you can,” he repeats, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. Merlin curses inwardly. There will be no living with Arthur now. “I told you,” Arthur starts ranting before Merlin even manages to finish his thought, “not to work yourself too hard. I told you to take it easy, that you still haven't recovered from the last battle. But no, Arthur has no clue, Merlin always knows best—“

 

“To be fair, it is—“ Merlin tries to defend himself, but Arthur just continues talking right over him.

 

“Merlin can do everything on his own,” Arthur grabs him around the waist and hauls him over his shoulder, easily carrying him up the stairs and down the hallway, “Merlin will hold up walls on his own and freeze a whole army and disarm them, all at the same time, and he won't be tired at all...” Arthur continues rambling into his hip, but Merlin tunes him out, instead letting his brain shut down and his body go limp. It feels amazing to finally let go of all the tension and strain of battle and responsibility.

 

In the privacy of his own mind, Merlin is willing to concede that Arthur does have a point – he did know that he was overusing his magic and that his body wouldn't take it well, not this soon after that duel last week. But Arthur is obnoxious and smug even without Merlin telling him he was right, there's really no need to make it worse. Besides, given the same choice again, Merlin would make the same decisions. When it comes to Arthur, he can never stop himself from doing whatever it takes to protect him. Another thing that Arthur doesn't need to hear, or it might go to his head.

 

“Leave us,” Arthur commands and Merlin only then realizes that they're inside Arthur's chambers. The three maids who have been fussing needlessly with the sheets and the towels and gods only know what else leave the room immediately. Merlin blinks his eyes open just in time to see the room spin as he is deposited on Arthur's soft bed. Arthur's hands are running down his sides soothingly and the only thing he can hear is the crackling of fire.

 

“You're not ranting at me,” he points out, frowning, “why are you not ranting?” Arthur always rants when he's concerned, it's his emotionally retarded way of showing he cares. The fact that he's not ranting is worrying to say the least.

 

In response, Arthur just shakes his head and kisses Merlin's shoulder. “You could've died out there,” he mumbles, so quietly that Merlin almost misses it; almost. His mouth goes dry and his throat closes up with three parts an emotion he doesn't dare name and hopes to gods he never needs to vocalize, and one part sheer panic at having this conversation. They don't have _the talks_ , they don't discuss their feelings, they don't whisper poetry verses to each other, they just don't do that; they argue and they tease each other, they sleep together and live together, they fight together and risk their lives for one another, but they don't talk about it, and if they start now, when Merlin is so tired he couldn't open his eyes if his life depended on it (maybe if Arthur's did, he'd manage) and his brain-to-mouth filter is even more gone than it usually is, Merlin _will_ say some terribly sappy things and Arthur will tease him relentlessly for the rest of their lives.

 

But Arthur doesn't say anything else, just takes a minute to rest (during which time Merlin all but falls asleep) before standing up. Merlin is only dimly aware of Arthur's footsteps echoing around the room, the rustle of clothing and then Arthur's rough fingers all over his body, undressing him with the kind of ease that only comes with familiarity. Arthur carries him to the bath, guiding him into a comfortable position before joining him. Merlin has just enough presence of mind left to cast a spell to keep the water warm before he relaxes into Arthur's chest and feels all the tension drain out of him.

 

He must have drifted off at some point, because when he opens his eyes the next time he's not quite so my-whole-body-is-a-pile-of-goo tired and he can form coherent thoughts again; Arthur is a solid and warm presence behind him, his breathing even and calm, but not deep enough to indicate sleep, one of his hands resting just above Merlin's elbow and the other laid on his hip, thumb stroking circles into Merlin's sensitive skin.

 

“How long have I been out?” Merlin manages after two failed attempts at speaking.

 

“Couple of hours,” Arthur replies quietly. His voice sounds even deeper than it normally does, it vibrates in his chest and Merlin feels the words course through his body as well, soothing the aches and calming his nerves. “Ready to get out?” Arthur asks, running his lips over Merlin's neck. Merlin manages an eloquent sound somewhere between a shuddering moan and a non-committal hum. Arthur kisses behind his ear. “We'll stay a while longer then.” Merlin just tries to snuggle closer in response, letting Arthur's calming voice lull him back to half-slumber. “Does it hurt?” Arthur asks after a while, running his hand up to Merlin's shoulder.

 

This time Merlin manages something that sounds like a  _whuh_ . He's almost proud of himself.

 

“An arrow hit you in the shoulder,” Arthur explains, and for all that his voice remains level, Merlin can hear the concern in it. “I cleaned the wound and patched you up while you were out.”

 

Merlin frowns into Arthur's neck. He doesn't remember any arrows. All he remembers is standing on the hill, murmuring the protective spell he'd cast on Arthur again and again (just in case) while trying to simultaneously do something useful for the rest of the army as well. Arrows were never part of the plan.

 

“Gwaine got you out. He saved your life,” Arthur says, kissing the shell of Merlin's ear. There's something in his voice, something that almost sounds like jealousy, but Merlin is too tired to analyze it. Instead, he lets himself drift off to the sound of Arthur's steady breathing.

 

When he wakes up the next time, he's feeling much better; he's still sore, but at least now he can move around without help. He's naked and lying on top of the covers, there's a bandage on his shoulder; a goblet of water and a plate of fruit and cheese are on a little stool by the bed, next to them is an empty vial of what Merlin recognizes as Gaius's muscle relaxant. The room is a bit chilly and it's dark outside. Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

 

Merlin clears his throat. “Arthur?” he asks the room. A gust of wind moves the curtain and makes Merlin shiver. “Arthur?” he repeats, louder this time, as he starts wiggling around the bed, trying to get under the covers.

 

The door to the antechamber opens and Arthur walks in, completely naked, skin glistening with droplets of water. Merlin stops his squirming in favour of letting his eyes roam all over Arthur's body, following drops of water sliding down his chest and stomach.

 

“See something you like?” Arthur teases, an easy smirk on his face.

 

“No,” Merlin snorts and sticks his tongue out. Arthur grins at him before slowly turning around and then very deliberately bending over, ostensibly to pick something up. Merlin's mouth waters; he picks up a pillow and hurls it in Arthur's direction. Arthur catches it easily.

 

“I see you're feeling better,” he teases.

 

“I am! Why, were you worried?” Merlin replies, meaning it as a joke. Arthur waits just a fraction of a moment too long to answer _Pfft, of course not_ , but Merlin catches it; it makes something warm spread out in his chest and his lips curve into a smile.

 

Arthur blushes a little, but manages to sound appropriately exasperated when he says, “You were unconscious for two days, yes I was worried.”

 

Oh.  _Oh_ . Two days is a long time for someone to be asleep, Merlin knows that well enough. He can vividly recall every second of every minute of every hour of every day he's spent sitting by Arthur's bed, holding Arthur's hand and combing through his sweaty hair and kissing his forehead every time he was sick or injured. The anxiousness and suspense are pure torture, and two days end up seeming like two years.

 

Merlin looks at Arthur (still gloriously naked, standing by the bed) better, seeing for the first time the bruises on Arthur's stomach and sides, the dark circles around his eyes. He reaches out, stretching his arm in Arthur's direction and curling his fingers around Arthur's wrist, tugging him forward, suddenly needing to get closer. “Come here,” he says. Arthur smiles down at him, climbs onto the bed and crawls up Merlin's body, pausing to kiss his knee, thigh, hip, stomach, chest. Merlin tangles his fingers into Arthur's hair and pulls him up to kiss him. Arthur smiles against his lips.

 

“You're all right,” he says, not a question, but not quite a statement either; like he's testing the words out.

 

“I'm all right,” Merlin replies, kissing Arthur's lips gently. Arthur melts into the kiss, his body relaxing on top of Merlin's, his eyes closed, his fingers restless over Merlin's naked skin. “I'm all right,” Merlin repeats when Arthur moves away to kiss his neck. Arthur rests his head on Merlin's healthy shoulder, and Merlin lets himself just enjoy the moment, the warmth and intimacy and peace they have between them. He strokes the pads of his fingers over Arthur's cheek and feels the smile on Arthur's lips.

 

“I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” Arthur says, nipping one of Merlin's fingers.

 

“Oh, well then. By all means, do _not_ let me stop you,” Merlin answers, retreating his hand and lying perfectly still on the bed. Arthur whines at the loss of touch and Merlin barely suppresses a laugh at that. Arthur doesn't move for a few more seconds, then raises himself on his arms, presses a brief kiss to Merlin lips before flipping them over so that Merlin's head is on his chest and the covers are wrapped around them both. “Your blanket wielding skills never cease to impress me,” Merlin jokes, laying a hand on Arthur's stomach and letting his magic bleed through his skin into Arthur's body, healing the cuts and bruises, taking away the pain and the marks.

 

“Good to know I can still amaze you,” Arthur laughs.

 

“Of course you can,” Merlin answers dismissively, kissing Arthur's chest. “Now. Feed me,” he demands, grinning.

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Arthur agrees in a mock-serious tone. “What is it that you desire?”

 

“Hmmm. Do we have grapes on the menu?” Merlin asks.

 

“Anything for you, Your Highness,” Arthur teases, but softens it with a kiss to Merlin's temple. He picks up a grape from the bowl by the bed and presses it to Merlin's lips. Merlin makes sure to lick Arthur's fingers as he takes the grape from him. The third time he does it, Arthur very nearly purrs and Merlin decides to step up the game. He throws a leg over Arthur's thighs and looks up at Arthur's face through his lashes, using the most innocent look he knows.

 

“Plums?” he asks hopefully. Arthur's eyes flash with sudden understanding, but he doesn't comment. He dips his fingers into the bowl and procures half a plum. Merlin sucks Arthur's fingers along with it into his mouth and lets the juice drip over his chin and Arthur's hand. Arthur groans and throws his head back onto the pillows. Merlin lifts his leg and rubs it over Arthur's half-hard cock.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur warns, “don't start something you can't finish.”

 

Merlin turns them around, laughing. “Why would I finish anything? You're here to do all the work for me anyway.”

 

Arthur rolls his eyes but obediently ducks his head and kisses Merlin. Merlin responds lazily, melting under Arthur's gentle touches. He closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the warm sensation spreading through his body. He can trust Arthur to take good care of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it ^^


End file.
